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A most excellent and vertuous Ballad of the patient Grissell:University of California - Santa BarbaraThe Early Modern CenterDirectorPatricia Fumerton1624Early Modern Center, University of California Santa BarbaraSanta Barbara, CA06/26/200820160

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Patricia FumertonEarly Modern Center - English DepartmentUniversity of CaliforniaSanta Barbara, CA 93105United States of AmericaEMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

1.34-35S1261371the Brides good morrowthe Bride's Good-MorrowThe Bride's Good MorrowA Noble Marquesse, / [A]s he did ri[d]e a hunting,SHe tooke the Babes, / Euen from the nursing Ladies,attributed to Thomas Deloney, 1543?-1600, based on book 10, novel 10 of Giovanni Boccacio, Decameron; another edition at 1.520-521.Pepys 1.34-35STC 12384.5 [Printed by G. Purslowe] for H. Gossen, [c.1625?]; Rollins (2) 1956 (Dec. 14, 1624, IV, 131); Rollins (2) 1957 (Mch. 1, 1675, ii, 501); Rollins (2) 2045 (Mch. 1, 1675, ii, 498).Woodblock 1: first half sheet, above three columns: A gentleman stands by his horse (held by a servant) as someone speaks to him; his sword lies in front of him on the ground. In the back right is another servant holding the knight's helmet, and on the far right a figure looks on that has wings, a long staff (lance?), and shield emblazoned with a face. In the bottom left corner lies an opened chest. : 98 x 112Woodblock 2: second half sheet, above two columns, to the right of third column: In the foreground, a woman (presumably Griselda) sits at her spinning wheel outside her thatched house. On the left in the middleground, a gentleman with a large plumed hat rides by on a horse. In the middle and background are two dogs, a rough rendition of a stag, and another man on foot with a long staff, indicating that the men are hunting. Two trees stand in the background.: 80 x 79Woodblock 1: first half sheet, above three columns: A gentleman stands by his horse (held by a servant) as someone speaks to him; his sword lies in front of him on the ground. In the back right is another servant holding the knight's helmet, and on the far right a figure looks on that has wings, a long staff (lance?), and shield emblazoned with a face. In the bottom left corner lies an opened chest. : 98 x 112Woodblock 2: second half sheet, above two columns, to the right of third column: In the foreground, a woman (presumably Griselda) sits at her spinning wheel outside her thatched house. On the left in the middleground, a gentleman with a large plumed hat rides by on a horse. In the middle and background are two dogs, a rough rendition of a stag, and another man on foot with a long staff, indicating that the men are hunting. Two trees stand in the background.: 80 x 79Pepys LibraryThe Pepys ballads : facsimile volumeEditorW.G. DayD.S. BrewerCambridge [England]1987
Information in this section of the Source Description
refers to the original ballad manuscript.
1: 341: 35A most excellent and vertuous Ballad of the patient Grissell:A most excellent and vertuous Ballad of the patient Grissell:A Most Excellent and Virtuous Ballad of the Patient Grissell:The second part,The second part,The Second Part,1/2 sheet folio, originally left part, 285 x 1851/2 sheet folio, originally right part, 288 x 183uneven inkingdamaged surface, uneven inkingcast fleuronscast fleurons1624Printed at London for H. Gossen.G. PursloweWeinstein: STC, licensing infoWeinstein only lists G. Purslowe. BBTI lists George Purslowe and G. Purslowe, but notes that G. Purslowe might be the son of George Purslowe. No variant of G. Purslowe appears on the facsimile. Plomer lists Purslowe, with George in parentheses.ESTC also lists that G. Purslowe was the printer. It is not clear where any variant of the name G. Purslowe comes from, as it does not appear on facsimile.

A most excellent and vertuous Ballad of the patient Grissell:To the tune of the Brides good morrow.

A Noble Marquesse,As he did ride a hunting,hard by a Forrest side,A faire and comely Mayden,As she did sit [a] spinning,his gentle e[y]e espide;Most faire and lovely,And of comely grace was she,although in simp[l]e attire:She sung [full] sweetly,With pleasant voyce melodiously,which set the [L]ords heart on fire:The more he lookt the more he might,Beautie bred his hearts delight,And to this Damsellthen he went:God speed (quoth he) thou famous flowerFaire Mistris of this homely bower,Where love and vertuedwels with sweet content.With comely gesture,And modest milde behaviour,she bade him welcome then,She entertain'd himIn faithfull friendly manner,and all his Gentlemen:The Noble Ma[r]quesseIn's heart felt such a flame,which set his senses at strife:Quoth he, faire Mayden,Shew me soone what is thy name,I meane to make thee my wife.Grissell is my name quoth she,Farre unfit for your degree,A silly Mayden,and of parents poore.Nay Grissell thou art rich, he said,A ver[t]ous faire and comely Mayd,Grant me thy love,and I will aske no more.

At length she consented,And being both contented,they married were with speed:Her country RussetWas chang'd to silke and velvet,as to her state agreed:And when t[h]at sheeWas trimly tyred in the same,her beautie shined bright,Farre stayning everyOther faire and princely Damethat did appeare in her sight.Many envied her therefore,Because she was of parents poore,And twixt her Lord and shegreat strife did rayse:Some said this and some said that,And some did call her beggars brat,And to her Lordthey would her oft dispraise.Oh Noble Marquesse,Quoth they, why dost thou wrong us,thus basely for to wed,That might have gottenAn honourable Ladyinto your Princely bed?Who will not nowYour Noble issue still deride,which shall hereafter be borne:That are of blood so baseBorne by the mothers side,the which will bring them in scorne?Put her therefore quite away,And take to you a Lady gay,Whereby your imagemay renowned be.Thus every day they seem'd to prate,That malic'd Grissels good estate,Who all this whiletooke it most patiently:

When that the MarquesseDid see that they were bent thusagainst his faithfull wife,Whom he most dear[i]ly,Tenderly and entirelybeloved as his life:Minding in secretFor to prove her patient heart,thereby her foes to disgrace,Thinking to shew herA hard discourtieous part,that men might pittie her case:Great with child this Lady was,And at the last it came to passe,Two goodly childrenat one birth she had,A sonne and daughter God had sent,Which did their father well content,And which did maketheir Mothers heart full glad.Great royall feastingWas at this childrens Christning,and Princely triumph made,Sixe weekes together,All Nobles that came thither,were entertain'd and staid:And when all these pleasantSportings quite were done,the Marquesse a messenger sent,For his young daughter,And his pretty smiling sonne,declaring his full intent,Now that the babes must murthered be,For so the Marquesse did decree:Come let me havethe children, then he said.With that faire Grissell wept full soreShe wrung her hands, & said no moreMy gracious Lordmust have his will obey'd.

The second part, To the same tune.

SHe took the BabesEven from the nursing Ladies,betweene her tender armes:She often wishes,With many sorrowful kisses,that she might ease their harmes,Farewell, farewell,A thousand times, my children deare,never shall I see you againe:Tis long of me,Your sad and wofull mother here,for whose sake both must be slaine:Had I beene borne of royall race,You might have liv'd in happy case,But you must diefor my unworthinesse.Come messenger of death [(]quoth shee)Take my dearest Babes to thee.And to their Fathermy complaints expresse.He tooke the children,And to his Noble Masterhe brought them both with speed,Who in secret sent themUnto a Noble Lady,to be brought up indeed:Then to faire Grissell,With a heavie heart he goes,where she sate mildely all alone,A pleasant gesture,And a lovely looke she shewes,as if no griefe she had knowne.(Quoth he) my children now are slaine,What thinkes fair Grissell of the sameSweet Grisell nowdeclare thy minde to me.Sith you my Lord are pleased with itPoore Grissell thinkes the action fit,Both I and mineat your command will be.

My Nobles murmure,Faire Grissell at thy honour,and I no joy can have,Till thou be ban[i]shtBoth from my Court and presence,as they unjustly crave:Thou must be striptOut of thy stately garments all,and as thou cam'st to me,In homely gray,Instead of Bysse and purest Pall,now all thy clothing must be.My Lady thou must be no more,Nor [I] thy Lord which grieves me soreThe poorest lifemust now content thy minde.A groat to thee I must not give,Thee to maintaine while I doe live,Against my Grissellsuch great foes I finde.When gentle GrissellDid heare these wofull tydings,the teares stood in her eyes,Nothing she answered,No words of discontentmentdid from her lips arise;Her velvet GowneMost patiently she slipped off,her keritle of silke with the same,Her Russet GowneWas brought againe with many a scoffe,to beare them her selfe she did frameWhen she was drest in this array,And was ready for part away,God send long lifeunto my Lord (quoth she)Let no offence be found in this,To give my Lord a parting kisse,With watery eyes,farewell my deare he said.

From Princely Palace,Unto her fathers Cottage,poore Grissell now is gone:Full sixteene wintersShe lived there contented,no wrong she thought upon:And at this time throughAll the Land the speeches went,the Marquesse should married beUnto a Noble Lady great,Of high descent,and to the same all parties did agree,The Marquess sent for Grissell faire,The Brides bed-chamber to prepare,That nothing thereinmight be found awry:The Bride was with her brother come,Which was great joy to all and some,But Grissell tookeall this most patiently.And in the morning,When as they should be wedded,her patience then was tride,Grissell was charged,Her selfe in friendly manner,for to attire the Bride,Most willinglyShe gave consent to doe the same,the Bride in her braverie was drest,And presentlyThe Noble Marquesse thither came,with all his Lords at his request,O Grissell, I would aske of thee,If to this match thou wilt agree,Me thinkes thy lookesare waxed wondrous coy.With that they all began to smile,And Grissell she replide the while,God send Lord Marquessmany years of joy.The Marquess was moved,To see his best belovedthus patient in distresse,He stept unto her,And by the hand he tooke her,these words he did expresse,Thou art my Bride,And all the Brides I meane to have,these two thine owne children be.The youthfull LadyOn her knees did blessing crave,her brother as well as sheAnd you that envyed her estate,Whom I have made my loving mateNow blush for shame,and honour vertuous life.The Chronicles of lasting fameShall evermore extoll the nameOf patient Grissellmy most constant wife.